Irish Kidnapping
by Cheesecake44
Summary: How many McReary's does it take to kidnap Gracie Ancelotti?
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own GTA.**

**Enjoy.**

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><p><strong>New Plan<strong>

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><p>The front door downstairs banged shut causing a sudden dull pain inside a hung-over Irish-American's head to bang back in response, the man grunted in annoyance at the interruption of his sleep. In his pain addled brain he deduced what the cause of the noise was.<p>

Either it's fucking Katie or Ma going shopping or to church. At least this time it ain't Niko wanting to do something, man never fuckin' sleeps.

He could even hear the key being turned in the lock and it was way too loud, Patrick grumpily thought to himself about how he shouldn't have been able to hear that from upstairs.

"Fuck's sake." Packie groaned out loud, rolling over to grab his phone so he could squint at the lit up screen for the time.

Ah Christ it's not even two yet.

Another dull thump in his alcohol-fuelled head made him drop his phone and roll back over with a moan, pulling the duvet up and over his head to hopefully muffle any other fucking annoying sounds. With a bit of luck Katie and his Ma wouldn't be back till past four, by then he should've recovered and then they can start making noise.

Grumbling to himself, he somehow managed to drift off again when his phone started to ring.

"Fucking hell!" Patrick snarled, awake again and instantly angry. He swiped at his phone to give hell to whoever it was for waking him up.

'Unknown number?'

Packie paused before deciding to answer it cautiously and he waited.

"Patrick it's me," Came a gruff voice sounding like it was in a crowded place as people could be heard yelling and talking in the background.

Gerald!

For a split second Packie was honestly happy to hear his brother's voice until he realised what time it was and the amount he drank and snorted last night, coupled with his hangover and rude awakening for the second time today…

Looks like his daily phone call is to me, well I ain't honoured, not at this fucking time.

"Fuck's sake Gerry, I know you have no choice but to get up at fuckin' sunrise but why bother me?" He spat out and slouched back down in bed with a sigh, rolling onto his side so he could balance his phone on his ear without holding it. Packie didn't know why he bothered getting comfortable, if Gerald had called it's because he wanted him to do a job.

"Very funny," Gerald replied humourlessly. "Listen I got news to share and I'd rather you be here than me tell you it now. See you soon."

He hung up without waiting for an answer and Patrick purposely dropped his phone to the floor and hoped it was broken when a heard a thud.

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><p><strong>Please review :)<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own Grand Theft Auto.**

**Bloody thing wouldn't let me spell twat with the swirly a like it does in game lol.**

**Enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Get 'Graceful' Packie<strong>

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><p>Patrick mooched inside the prison gates, stopping to register himself in at the front counter to see someone before he was allowed to stroll right on in. He'd been in here once and fucking hated it, granted prison isn't meant to be a fun and happy place to be, would be better if you were ignored completely, last thing you want is to be the centre of attention and with Patrick being only just eighteen at that time he was in…<p>

Fresh meat in their eyes.

Packie scanned the rows of small cubicles for where Gerry was sat and spotted him, leaning over to see if he could see his little brother, Packie walked up, sat down and picked up the dirty looking plastic phone. He had a small flashback to when it was the other way round quite a few years back when Gerry was visiting him iin here.

"There better be a damn good reason for me having to haul my ass in here to see you, man." Was Patrick's pleasant hello to him.

"Nice to see you too Patrick; took your sweet time getting here." Gerald's strong voice penetrated through the small holes of the phone and with it an underlying tone of warning and impatience.

"Fuck off." Packie grouched at him, he was tired and it was eleven in the morning.

A security guard mooched past the two and down the line. Gerald gave a cautious yet casual glance behind him at the guards retreating back before leaning forward, apparently ready for business.

"Listen I want to help out a friend of mine, his girlfriend's ex boyfriend is being an asshole and I promised him I'd look out for him." He spoke quietly and quite fast but again, emphasis on casual yet a few words were heavily said as though to point them out more than the others.

Patrick wasn't too pleased at having to pay full and complete attention to try and figure out the clumsy code of what it is was his brother and boss wanted him to do.

"Right?" The half asleep and grumpy McReary frowned in question.

The security guard wandered behind and stared at the back of Gerald's head quite obviously, as if he was trying to see what was in there. Probably some fucked up things, Packie could tell him that.

"Talk to him and tell him to give his girl a bit of space, maybe hang out with you for a while so they can both clear their heads from this ex of hers. Try to be a gentlemen Patrick she's very _graceful_…"

Graceful? The word resounded through Patrick's skull as he attempted to link that word to something that had something to do with anything with crime, money, guns, people that needed whacking, Pegorino…

The security guard drifted off to stand behind another guy to listen in on what was being said.

"Okay..?"

Not like he could ask him to repeat it or say it out loud what the hell Gerry meant.

"I heard her ex has got a lot stuff of ours that our boy bought her; jewellery, clothes, shoes…you know the things. He doesn't want her to be upset so we need to help him get this stuff back for her. Diamonds are a girl's best friend after all." Gerald stared steadily at him.

Diamonds? The ones Boccino had? This still part of Pegorino's plan? If so then it would be about the Ancelotti's. And some girl who's graceful?

A sudden image of a ballerina came dancing into Packie's head, however he pushed it aside.

I'll check it out.

"Okay, got it," Patrick answered and was now wide awake.

It was an hour or so later, inside TWAT, sat infront of a computer with a cup of coffee from the small cafe that Patrick smirked to himself and had to hold back from loudly declaring 'how fuckin' good he is'.

It is about the Ancelotti's! The old man in charge has a daughter called Grace; meaning graceful. I'm a fucking genius. So I gotta kidnap this girl from the Ancelotti family, hold her hostage till her old man coughs up the diamonds and we give 'em to Boccino and we get a cut of the haul, plus it'll rough up Ancelotti's a bit more.

Patrick nodded at the plan, his mind already thinking up the pros and cons and what could go wrong and how to fix it if it did. However first and foremost; he couldn't do it alone. So Gordon would come along for the ride and he'd ask Niko too.

He shut down the computer and strolled out past the front desk and to the door.

"There's a tip jar asshole…" The man behind the counter muttered however he was ignored as Packie yanked out his phone and started dialling.

Alright then, time to call Niko boy!

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><p><strong>Please review.<strong>


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